


Realism

by Val_Creative



Series: Warlock & His Dollophead [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Merlin, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mpreg, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he saw Merlin was just a second out the windows—no more than a blink in time. A dark speck amongst the echoing white sunlight. His stepsister prattled on about “finding the person of your dreams”—but it seemed that Arthur was content with only his imaginings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andrewonders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewonders/gifts).



> (A very special thank you to my friends on Skype who encouraged this on, even when I was whining, and The Merlin Family as well as The Warlock and His King Network on Tumblr for being a wonderfully excitable bunch ❤ ❤ ❤ )
> 
>  
> 
> Day #10: "doggy style"

*

 

The first time he saw Merlin was just a second out the windows—no more than a blink in time. A dark speck amongst the echoing white sunlight.

And then, the school doors burst open, several of the pre-grade children looking up eagerly for their parents. Arthur's mouth slipped open, very much without his permission, eyes pinning on a tall, lovely man walking in.

 _Walking_ had, in fact, been a politer term for the unsteady steps Merlin took. But Arthur could only imagine so with the large, pregnant belly hanging off his thin frame. My god, how did those _cheekbones_ exist… ?

Before it registered completely, Arthur was approaching him, having abandoned his knapsack bag on the floor, hand extended.

"My name is Arthur," he said, hoping in the back of his mind Arthur didn't sound half as nervous as he was feeling presently.

Merlin took it unquestioningly, the skin brushing Arthur's hand swollen-warm by his higher temperature. But his _lovely_ , blue eyes scanned Arthur up and down, mildly impressed.

" _You're_ the gymnastics instructor?"

Arthur's mouth went dry. His initial reaction was to toss back a scathing remark, except Merlin didn't appear to be insulting him.

"… Is there a problem?"

He opened his mouth, rounding. (And Arthur was _not_ on about how luscious the color his lips were, or if they would be puffy from a snog.)

"Oh, _no_. Not at all. Heh."

Merlin said, nose crinkling up adorably when he smiled brightly at Arthur, "You… don't look like someone who works with kids, is all. I mean, perhaps you _could_ have been one of those supermodel types who grew bored of the glamored fame. Or a son of a rich investor, that too."

Arthur didn't quite know what to say to that. But he did laugh, bringing a hand up to his neck and scratching at an itch.

"Well, now that we've gotten, uh, hilariously specific assumptions out of the way," Arthur said, avoiding staring at Merlin's mouth. "You might be?"

"Daddiee!"

One of the smaller boys, with coppery brown hair and too-dark eyes to be Merlin's luminous blue, hugged around Merlin's leg. Merlin grinned down at him, touching his shoulder when the child nudged him.

"I'm Merlin. And, this is my son, Daegal," he told Arthur, and there was no mistaking the shameless pride. "Bug, this is Arthur."

Daegal shook his head to Merlin's pant-leg.

"I _know_ him already, Daddy!" he giggled.

"You do," Merlin amended, gently pushing the bangs off Daegal's face. "Go get your things, hmm? We don't want to make Percy wait."

Arthur watched Daegal nod and sprint for the cubbies, ignoring multiple cries in the room—fellow pre-grader and adult—of " _NO running_!" He caught Merlin staring after him absently, rubbing his overly pregnant stomach with both hands, circling slowly, like he wasn't even aware of it.

"Is, um… ?"

"Baby kicks a lot," Merlin said, aloud, looking over at Arthur with a pleasant expression. Pleasant was good. Really good. "It calms her down— _ow_ ," he complained, rubbing harder at the top of his belly, his other arm and hand resting beneath the huge curve. Merlin grimaced and then began to laugh, his face dimpling. "But not today, it seems."

For the circumstances, Merlin came off as a happy-go-lucky person. Not like most men Arthur found himself attracted to.

Then again, Arthur never felt attracted to any gigantic, red-blue plaid shirts, but he had the feeling Merlin could win him over in a goddamn flour-sack.

"Would you like to, um," Arthur started. He glanced around, snatching up one of the metal folding chairs, creaking it open. "Sit? Please."

"Thank you but we're not staying. I run by the availability of the sitter's and it can be a tight arrangement." Merlin then added, jokingly, "Besides, once I do sit down, you won't be able to get me back up. I've seen it."

With a feigned look of seriousness, Arthur replied, "M'sure we'd find a way."

It was worth the reappearance of the bright, toothy smile.

"It's only two months, and it'll be dirty nappies and late night feedings. I swear, all that milk never stays down—" Merlin stopped mid-babble, lips pressing together. "Not that you particularly care," he said, embarrassed.

And to Arthur's own surprise, _curiosity_ and how amiably deep Merlin's voice was overrode any revolted opinions about infantile vomiting.

"Well, it wouldn't say th—"

To his credit, Arthur was spared a tricky subject as Daegal returned. The little boy dropped his backpack and leaned his body towards the gymnasium mats. With concentrated movement, Daegal put his weight on his hands and did a quick cartwheel on the mat.

"I can do it, Daddy! _Look_!"

Merlin beamed, clapping his hands as Arthur did the same.

"Good lad!" he shouted, then waddling over to clasp Daegal's hand. "They'll be teaching you front aerials next, I expect." He side-eyed Arthur, gone smug by his likely correct reference. Arthur snorted in his direction.

"I would ask you to join as a parenting volunteer, but… " he trailed off, gesturing to Merlin, amused. An offended noise left the pregnant man.

"Oi, I can do cartwheels, too!"

Merlin then examined Arthur's critical stare.

He insisted, a dash of pink on his face, "I _could_ before the pregnancy, I'll have you know." Merlin's fingers settled to hooking under the swell of his belly. "Believe it or not, I used to do parkour for theatre performances. Shakespearean once or twice."

Arthur fought down a smirk. "That's very impressive, Merlin."

" _You_ are a… " Merlin said, rudely smacking Arthur's bicep as the other man chuckled, taking it. "A _word_ not to be spoken in front of my son."

Daegal's head craned up, staring at his father innocently, and Merlin squeezed the three-year-old's hand. "Let's go Dae-bug. Arthur needs to head home too before I bruise up his other arm."

"You _hardly_ bruised it."

Merlin's grin turned positively _devilish_ on him. "Better not give me the opportunity to try again," he remarked, guiding his son ahead of him.

Arthur sucked in a breath for courage, steeling himself. This was slightly mad. But—

—Pendragon men also never backed down if the risk was worth it.

"What if I do?" he asked, heart pounding against his ribcage when Merlin glanced over his shoulder, confused. Arthur straightened himself, marching forward, shoulders aligned. "I'd… like to see you again, if I can," he said, a bit more softly. "If that's what you want, Merlin."

"As friends?" Merlin asked, cautiously. For all Arthur knew, Merlin was a committed man, despite the lack of a wedding ring.

"Yes," he lied, or partly lied… oh hell with it. Arthur didn't know anymore.

But he ended up with Merlin smudging his mobile number with a blue raspberry-scented marker on the back of Arthur's hand and questioned if he liked Scandinavian.

 

*

 

They did remain friends.

But after a while, Arthur still couldn't get Merlin out of his head. His goofy smiles. The witty, unabashed banter. His pale cheekbones and cheerfulness and those two, long front teeth of Merlin's that were almost rabbity.

This was absolutely mad, and he needed to _think_ straight.

As straight as a lonely, gay bachelor who now wanked off in the shower, imagining Merlin seated on his cock—yeah, not very much.

Arthur prayed this wasn't turning into a pregnancy kink for him, but it was feeling more and more like a _Merlin_ kink. Undoubtedly, Merlin being pregnant suited him—his healthy complexion, his energy, his attitude.

His stepsister prattled on about "finding the person of your dreams"—but it seemed that Arthur was content with only dirty, rough imaginings.

He couldn't be falling for this bloke. He _couldn't_. It had only been a couple weeks, and his usually reserved flatmate Pellinore got along with Merlin too well, chatting up about museums and architecture, and Merlin was _indefinitely_ single and Arthur secretly adored listening to him talk…

Merlin frequented a cafe that served brilliant toasted sourdough and potatoes in a dill vinaigrette and smoked salmon that Arthur knew immediately after the first bite he would be addicted to for life.

"I'm filing the divorce with my ex-husband," Merlin informed him out of the blue, one afternoon, nibbling on an end of his sandwich.

Arthur paused sipping on his water. Oh.

"It's done, but needs to go through completely… " Merlin adjusted himself in his chair, pressing for a moment on his lower back. The weather had been fair enough to enjoy sitting outdoors, but the cafe benches—as Merlin groaned about—tended to uncomfortably dig in.

He sighed. "I'm glad I admitted that. To someone. It's been difficult… "

Arthur leaned forward, elbows scraping the table, nodding to him.

"Daegal's father and… ?"

Merlin frowned, picking at the browned edges of lettuce. "The baby isn't his," he muttered. Merlin didn't sound disappointed, just… tired. Fatigued by his knowledge and if he could help it, Arthur wanted to lessen that burden.

The more Merlin explained the kind of man Julius Borden was, the more Arthur found himself knuckling his glass, outrage building, teeth gritting.

Julius had been arrested early on for thieving, but when released he had charmed a younger, less disillusioned Merlin at a local pub with his ambitions and reckless streak. Merlin had believed he could change him, tame him, mature him eventually, have a family with Julius.

But nothing could have changed his vile nature—how he lied to Merlin, got arrested for loitering and drug-dealing, and the prostitutes. "He couldn't stand the idea of not having _options_ ," Merlin said, sourly.

"The baby isn't his because I wouldn't let Julius touch me after he admitted forcing Daegal's pregnancy on me, _taking care_ of the prescriptions we got and switching them out for fertility enhancing drugs. Y'know, I thought once he was trying to… give a _damn_ about us… "

Merlin let out a bitter laugh, rubbing his eyelid. "I cocked it up," he said, motioning with the same hand. "I had another bloke for _one_ night while I was on the piss and let him bugger me, and I thought it was alright. Thought the chances were slim to none."

Arthur observed the other man tilt his head back, staring blankly at the cafe umbrella.

"Turns out I'm very fertile, whether or not I wanted it," Merlin whispered, combing his fingers through his hair.

Thick and dark curls. It looked thick. Arthur reined in the urge to reach across their table, to solidify the notion, to hold the side of Merlin's face.

Merlin had this way of speaking his mind, of not caring what others thought of him and deliberately being blunt. It was refreshing, new. Everyone else around Arthur faked their smiles and their enthusiasm. Faked their smiles while grieving or livid. Not Merlin.

"He didn't approve, I expect… "

"Honestly who would?"

Merlin lifted his head upright, blinking out the sensation of the world rotating. The online article Arthur discovered yesterday on his laptop mentioned lightheartedness and dizziness, all across the duration of the third trimester, as well as shortness of breath.

"It didn't matter. I had moved out with my son by then, getting a lawyer and drawing up the papers. They said it could take up to a year or more in court. I was at six weeks with this little one." Merlin gazed fondly down at his bump, smiling close-mouthed. "There's a restraining order on Julius, but he's left the country by now. Bollocks on him."

Arthur smiled at him, wordless, but overcome by the entire truth. No wonder Merlin hardly trusted anyone else, let alone Arthur.

Merlin's bare hand cupped over his navel protruding against the woven material of his turtleneck, holding himself possessively.

"I _want_ this baby, Arthur," he said, nearly pleading. "She's mine. Same as Daegal. I never regretted having him, and I won't regret her."

"I know," Arthur breathed out, imagining taking Merlin's hand into his.

If he figured out one thing about the mystery and enigma that was Merlin—he was a _fantastic_ parent. Devoted to his children. It swelled Arthur's heart.

Merlin's half-bitten sandwich dropped back on his plate. He cradled the sides of his large stomach with a stifled, low noise, taking deepened breathes. The point of Merlin's chin almost lowering to his sternum.

"Merlin?" Arthur's body tensed.

" _Merlin_ , what is it? What's happening?"

"S'alright," Merlin said, throaty, licking his upper lip. "Just a contraction."

"A— _what_?" Panic flared through Arthur's veins.

He got up from the cafe table quickly, running to Merlin's bench and taking his shoulders. Not understanding in the haze of adrenaline why Merlin was _laughing_ at him. Maybe he was delirious. Did contractions make you a nutter?

"Merlin, what is so funny—we need to get you to an emergency room."

"Please, just stop," Merlin spoke up, hands off himself and grabbing at Arthur's wrists. His _daft_ expression still crinkled from the laughing fit, even as it faded and Merlin began looking annoyed. "Stop, it's a fake one. My body is preparing for labor."

At the further horror on Arthur's face, he rolled his eyes.

"For the labor not happening now!" Merlin hissed. "For christ's sake, sit _down_. They're all staring at us." Little was Arthur aware that two employees and the owner of the establishment were peeking through the windows, and a couple in sunglasses a table away craned their necks.

Arthur slumped back down on his bench, sending the window a glare. "You've lost me, Merlin," he mumbled.

"Everything here—" Merlin's palm mapped over the front of his entire belly. "—everything clenches up on occasion, like there's a fist inside, but it passes. If I was about to give birth, it would be different, Arthur. There would be a lot more pain."

Merlin grinned, picking up his sandwich.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he apologised, taking a chunk from the sweet bread.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," Arthur said, giving him a wounded look.

He thudded his head into his folded arms on the cafe table, groaning pitifully. Merlin continued to serenely chew, taking a drink from Arthur's glass of water.

"Are you often told you have highly theatrical behavior? You should consider auditioning with me next summer."

At the mischievous tone, Arthur raised not his head, but a two-finger salute.

 

*

 

At the outdoor bus station, just missing rush hour, they waited.

"… So, what do you mean 'finding the one of your dreams'?"

When Arthur sneered faintly at the ridiculous notion, the other man snickered, keeping one hand on a steel pole for balance.

"That's not a very nice face, is it?" Merlin asked, good-naturedly, "Mind explaining?"

"Morgana—"

"Your stepsister," Merlin interrupted, knowingly. "I remember you telling me."

" _Morgana_ believes in rubbish. I've told her there's no such thing."

"That's like saying the idea of romance doesn't exist." Arthur turned to him. Merlin then said, distrustfully, his opened, button-suede jacket flapping about him to a passing vehicle, "How would you know it doesn't exist until you've tried to understand it?"

"I don't think you're an expert, Merlin."

If the comment stung Merlin, it didn't show. But Arthur's gut took a flying leap to the bottoms of his trainers. "I _didn't_ mean—"

"No, Arthur. Don't even _think_ of feeling sorry for the single, pregnant dad," Merlin said, fiercely. Luminous blue eyes narrowed, but to Arthur's rueful observation, they also gleamed suspiciously. "I've accepted my mistakes. I don't want Daegal to grow up thinking I'm ashamed of him."

He reached over, clasping at Merlin. "He won't," Arthur reassured.

But Arthur's hands went for Merlin's belly, touching its round firmness. He jolted in realization, pulling his hands away. But Merlin pulled them back, flattening Arthur's warm palms over him. At the amazed, uncertain look, Merlin agreed, lips quirking, "He won't."

Thank goodness the height difference between them was virtually nonexistent.

Arthur opened his mouth, thoughts whirling, but Merlin beat him to it.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, quietly.

With sincerity, Arthur replied, spanning his hands over Merlin's shirt. "You can do… whatever you like."

"Oh no, you shouldn't say that," Merlin warned softly, burrowing his fingers to Arthur's flaxen hair. "I'll get all sorts of bad ideas." Arthur's hands slide across his waist, tugging Merlin close as the first kiss nudged their lips to part slowly, exploring, cherishing the additional heat.

With delight, Arthur felt the baby inside Merlin flutter against Arthur.

Just as he was about to move past Merlin's lips, claim and worship that dreadfully empty mouth, Merlin bent his head away.

"You don't have to… 'cause I'm like this," he gasped, shaking his head. Merlin's cheeks reddening. "I wouldn't even when I'm like this."

Arthur tickled his fingertips over the curve of Merlin's ear, tracing its shape. He swiped his thumb over Merlin's cheek gently. "Merlin, I know that you are so completely hardheaded that even _I'm_ puzzled by how your mind works… " he drawled. "But what on earth are you going on about?"

Merlin's fingers left his hair.

"I'm not attractive. I'm… " One of Merlin's lips tremored. "You don't have to do this because you're obligated."

This time, it was Arthur who shook his head. How could Merlin think that?

"I have never felt _obligated_ to any of this." He said, firmly, "I want to kiss you breathless, Merlin. Right here. I _want_ you. Pregnant or not pregnant. The baby bump is very sexy, I'll have you know." He imagined Merlin cracking up, leaning back into his hand and pressing a kiss to his thumb, and was pleasantly surprised to feel the soft, damp satin of Merlin's puffy lips touching Arthur's skin.

 

*

 

Elyan gladly took Daegal overnight, promising him to watch _The Neverending Story_ from start to finish, just like Percy did.

 

*

 

Arthur couldn't imagine there was a better sight in the morning than Merlin writhing and moaning deliriously underneath him.

He pressed with the side of his face to his own bed, arching his lower half into Arthur's hands steadying him on his knees, huge belly distended.

He rocked back with small, uncoordinated thrusts, hardly getting the maneuvering desired, cursing as Arthur's slippery, lubricated prick fell out and Merlin's inner muscles clenched desperately at nothing. Merlin had been previously loose for him, from the multiple, vigorous rounds the evening before, and one very early morning.

Arthur's thumbs worked over the pucker, stretching.

"I've got you, love," he murmured, positioning and dimpling back inside Merlin's arse, grinding into the hilt within moments. The cry of _relief_ from Merlin was bordered a high pitch. His need to be full, his need to be full of Arthur and his cock, warming his sore little bottom…

Arthur loved this. He did. Merlin's pert, little arse, feeding his prick in, watching Merlin's cleft swallow it up without resistance. Feeling through the condom as Merlin's channel of perfect heat tightened round him, holding Arthur in deep, refusing to let go.

Even more, he loved how big Merlin's stomach felt in his hands, caressing the length and round density. He carried a _life_.

"You have it off on this, don't you?" came a husky murmur. Arthur gave a sharp, mean pinch to Merlin's thigh.

" _Shhh_."

He fucked in harder, rotating his hips, and slapping up against Merlin's flesh.

A glisten of sweat formed down Merlin's spine and Arthur's tongue laved it, tasting salt and powder and Merlin's hot skin. "Arthur, Arthur, _please_ ," he whined out, bucking helplessly, feeling Arthur hammering relentlessly against that gland inside him. "Need you—"

"Come for me, Merlin. I want to hear it."

Merlin did, shouting out Arthur's name like it was his litany and jerking himself against the bedsheets, staining them. Merlin's body spasmed around him, clenching harder and pushing Arthur to follow him. Divine and so _fucking_ full in a heavy weight cupped in Arthur's hands.

 

*

 

Pulling aside the kitchen curtain, Arthur peered out the sunlit window into the yard.

He placed down the soapy dishes, glimpsing a tall, lovely man cartwheeling on the grass. A squealing toddler on the family room blanket and five-year-old Daegal encouraging his little sister, taking her tiny hands into his and waving their arms.

Arthur's stepsister mouthed an ' _I told you so_ ' from his left side, smugly drying off the plates.

 

*


End file.
